


solidago

by dydrmrnghtthnkr



Series: Hanahaki!!! On Ice [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 02:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9948593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dydrmrnghtthnkr/pseuds/dydrmrnghtthnkr
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky is only five years old, and too young to really know the world. He’s not too young though, to recognize the signs of stress in his grandfather’s face, no matter how he tries to hide it. He’s not young enough to not know why their apartment is always cold, why there’s paint peeling from the walls. Yuri might be young, but he’s not stupid.So when his grandfather suggests that he start skating, Yuri knows that they can’t afford it.AU where Yuri develops Hanahaki disease.





	1. Chapter 1

Yuri Plisetsky is only five years old, and too young to really know the world. He’s not too young though, to recognize the signs of stress in his grandfather’s face, no matter how he tries to hide it. He’s not young enough to not know why their apartment is always cold, why there’s paint peeling from the walls. Yuri might be young, but he’s not stupid. 

So when his grandfather suggests that he start skating, Yuri knows that they can’t afford it. 

 

“I don’t want to,” Yuri says immediately, brow furrowed. It doesn’t sound fun, and it’s not as if they have the money to spend. 

“Yurochka, you’ve never even tried ice skating before.” His grandfather’s voice is gently chastising, one of reason, and already Yuri knows he won’t be able to win this argument.

“I don’t need to try it to know I won’t like it,” he tries anyways, because he’s nothing if not persistent.

“Try it once, for me. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again.” 

Yuri sighs, even as he tightens his grip on his grandfather’s hand. “Fine,” he mutters, green eyes glaring at the ground. “I won’t like it though.”

“Thank you.” Yuri can hear the smile in his grandfather’s voice. If it makes Grandpa happy, Yuri reasons, then maybe it won’t be that bad. 

He continues: “We can go tomorrow since it’s Saturday. There’s a rink nearby.” Yuri groans. There’s really no getting out of it now. 

 

The rink is small, but filled with people. Yuri watches from behind his grandfather as he pays for their admission and rental skates. A couple holds hands as they skate; a girl closes her eyes as she makes her way around the rink in practiced strokes. A boy laughs with his friends even as he stumbles and falls to the ground. It looks...fun, almost. Yuri feels eyes on him, and looks up to meet his grandfather’s knowing gaze. “Ready?” The boy huffs. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

 

Yuri makes Grandpa go on the ice first. They find a quiet corner, so Yuri can get the feel of the ice. At least, that’s what he’s supposed to be doing. He just watches, eyes following the lines his grandfather cuts in the ice as he moves. 

The older man smiles gently. “Want to try?” 

Yuri nods.

“Take my hand, Yurochka,” he instructs. “Careful now, the ice is slippery.”

Yuri takes a deep breath, then takes his grandfather’s hand. Maybe he should take small, careful steps, but he doesn’t want to. He flings himself at the ice with a recklessness that makes the older man wince.

“Remember, you have to learn to walk before you can run,” he says, leaning down to help Yuri up from the ice. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Yuri says, eyes wide not with pain or anger as the older man had feared, but with delight. “Can we skate some more?”

His grandfather smiles. “Yes, but-” He sighs as Yuri hits the ground again. “But be a bit more careful.”

 

Later that night, the pair settle down to a dinner of pirozhki. 

“How was skating, Yurochka? Would you like to continue doing it?” 

“It was fun.” Green eyes stay fixed firmly to the plate in front of him. 

“What’s wrong? You love pirozhki. Does it taste bad?”

“No, the pirozhki is great!” Yuri hastily says, taking another bite to prove his words. “But,” he continues, swallowing, “I don’t know if I can skate.”

His grandfather sighs. “Is it because of money?”

The young boy doesn’t respond.

“Oh Yurochka. Don’t worry about that, we’ll be alright. Do you like skating?”

Yuri doesn’t know what to say. He likes skating, likes the feeling of ice underneath him. He likes the rush he feels as he moves. He doesn’t even mind the bruises. But skating lessons will be expensive. 

He tries not to let Grandpa see his emotions, keeps his eyes fixed away and his mouth steady. Somehow though, Grandpa senses his inner turmoil. 

“Yurochka. Be honest.”

“...yes. I like skating, Grandpa. It’s really fun, and I like the ice.”

A wide smile makes its way onto the face of his grandfather. “Then let’s get you lessons. Don’t worry about money. We’ll be okay. Now quick, finish your pirozhki before it gets cold.”

 

So, Yuri skates. He gets enrolled in lessons, and learns to move without falling. He learns spins and a few jumps. One day, he overhears an instructor tell his grandfather: “Yuri’s got a lot of potential. He’s a natural. But if you want him to get really good, professional good, I don’t think you’ll find that here. But in Saint Petersburg...I know someone there who could teach Yuri more. He could make Yuri a star.” It’s all he hears before he’s whisked away for stretching. 

 

That night, his grandfather sits him down and tells him about Yakov Feltsman. Yuri is quiet for once. “But he doesn’t teach here,” he finally says. The older man sighs. “No, he doesn’t. He teaches in Saint Petersburg.”

Yuri stays silent. “But Yurochka, this is a great opportunity. You love skating, and this is a chance for you to get even better,” continues Grandpa. “Don’t go if you don’t want to. But if you do, then we’ll make it work,” he promises. 

Finally, Yuri speaks. “I want to get better, but I don’t want to leave you.” His voice breaks, and he bites his tongue to keep from crying. 

“Oh Yurochka.” A pair of arms envelops him in a warm hug. He murmurs into Yuri’s hair: “I wish I could keep you with me always.”

  
  


In the end, Grandpa helps him get settled in with Yakov, in Saint Petersburg. He makes enough pirozhki to last a week. “So you won’t get homesick,” he says. When it’s time for him to go back home (to Moscow, without Yuri), he wraps him up in a hug. “I love you. Make me proud Yurochka.” Yuri’s not even ashamed when he cries. He knows he’ll make Grandpa proud. Not only because Grandpa will be proud no matter what happens, but because his grandfather won’t be able to buy a new winter coat this year, and he’s worn holes into his shoes. The electricity bill won’t always be paid. He’s made so many sacrifices. So Yuri will skate, and he’ll skate well. It’s the least he can do.

  
  


When Yuri meets the new skaters, it’s about enough to make him want to tear his hair out. Victor is boy with a wide smile, blue eyes sparkling as he immediately sweeps Yuri into a hug. Yuri  _ hates _ hugs (unless they’re from Grandpa), and pulls away quickly. The older boy merely laughs, and after taking in the tiger print on Yuri’s shirt, the stuffed cat he holds in his arms, he says, “I see the kitten doesn’t like hugs.” The green-eyed skater  _ lunges _ at Victor, ready to kill, and Yakov hastily pulls him away. “We’ll introduce you to Mila and Georgi another time,” he says with a sigh.

 

Meeting Mila and Georgi doesn’t go much better. Mila is a redhead with piercing blue eyes and surprising strength. She’s annoying, especially the way she ruffles his hair, but at least she’s better than Georgi. Georgi is enough to make Yuri wish he’d stayed in Moscow. “For the last time,” Yuri growls, “ _ I don’t care about who you like _ .” The older skater talks about love too much, even in the first five minutes of their meeting, and he is absolutely exhausting. Even so, when Yuri prepares for bed, thinking over his day, he thinks that maybe he could see Saint Petersburg becoming home. 

  
  
  
  


At ten years old, Yuri has low hopes for Yakov’s summer camp. He’s been there year after year, and it’s always boring. The instruction will be top-notch, as always, but there’s no telling how the other kids will be. He’s still in the novice class at camp, and there’s always new faces to be seen. This year, there’s nobody interesting. Grandpa is always telling him to make friends, but Yuri doesn’t see anyone he’d want to be friends with. Halfway through a lesson though, a boy is put into their class. Yuri doesn’t hear the murmured words the instructors share, but it doesn’t matter. It’s clear to him (and the rest of the group, if the snickers are any indication) what’s happened. The boy looks older than the other kids. He has angry brown eyes, a flush on his face, tan skin. When he joins in, Yuri can tell he’s not very flexible, probably the reason he was moved down to the novice class. 

 

When they’re allowed a break, Yuri escapes to an empty corner. He’s not interested in making small talk. The boy who was moved down doesn’t seem interested, either. He fends off all attempts at conversation with polite, one-word answers. When he escapes to a quiet spot of his own, he turns and catches Yuri staring. Feeling a flush creep up his face, Yuri keeps their eyes locked, refusing to back down. Finally, a small smile forms on the other boy’s lips, and he looks away, sipping from his water bottle. Yuri looks away as well, but he knows his face is still red. 

 

When the day is finally over, the green-eyed skater stays behind, waiting for Yakov to finish his lesson. He hears Yakov compliment someone in English. “You adjusted well, Otabek.” Spinning around, he spots the same boy from before, eyes downcast as he stands in front of Yuri’s coach. “Thank you,” he replies, quiet. The boy - Otabek, that’s his name - turns to meet Yuri’s gaze. Yuri curses himself in his head; he’s been caught staring,  _ again _ , but all Otabek does is offer a small smile, the same smile he’d given Yuri earlier, before walking out of the room. For some reason, Yuri wishes he could follow. Instead, he waits for Yakov so they can head to his apartment. 

 

“What was that boy’s name?” Yuri hears himself ask, as they eat dinner.

“Hm?” Yakov looks up from his plate. “Which one?”

“I think his first name’s Otabek,” says Yuri.

“Otabek Altin? He’s a skater from Kazakhstan.” Yakov says. 

“Oh,” the younger skater says. Yakov arches an eyebrow, awaiting an explanation for why Yuri wanted to know. “I was just curious,” he says, feeling his face get hot.

 

Yuri spends his evening looking up videos of Otabek. He skates well, Yuri thinks. He’s stoic most of the time off the ice, but on the ice, he’s expressive. After more research, he finds a video of Otabek landing a single toe-loop. It’s taken by shaky hands, and the quality of the footage is low, but he can tell it’s Otabek in the video. He looks a lot younger than the boy Yuri saw in person today, his eyes not quite as guarded. When he lands the jump, a wide smile crosses his face and he laughs in delight. Someone, maybe the person filming, cheers. The video cuts off then, and Yuri is reminded of the videos Grandpa likes to take, the ones that always end up bad because Grandpa isn’t good at operating technology. Then Yakov yells at him to get off the computer and the green-eyed skater huffs as he prepares for bed.

 

As Yuri wraps himself in blankets, clutching his stuffed cat to his chest, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to see Otabek give the wide smile he saw in the video in real life. He can’t help but wonder what it would be like if that smile was directed at him.  

 

(He dreams that night, of warm brown eyes and bright smiles.) 


	2. Chapter 2

Yuri realizes as he’s stretching the next morning that he might be getting sick. His face feels hot, his stomach feels funny, and he’s pretty sure his heart is beating too fast. He mentions it to Georgi as they cross paths on the way to their respective classes, and the older skater sighs. “Yuri, I hope you feel better soon. But to be honest, I wish I was sick.” 

“Why would you want to be sick? Being sick is awful,” Yuri shoots back.

Georgi sighs again, and says, “I have the same symptoms as you. The only difference is that a person is making me feel like this and you’re just sick. I’d rather be sick.”

He really doesn’t want to ask (Yuri hates not knowing something Georgi does, even though logically Georgi should know more, being older) but Yuri finds himself saying, “How can a person be doing this to you?”

The older skater opens his mouth to answer when he freezes. He runs a hand through his hair, and fixes his eyes on the group of girls that pass by. They look to be in Georgi’s age group, laughing at something or other that happened the other day. One girl waves at them, a smile tugging at her cherry-red lips. Georgi nearly trips over his own feet in his effort to wave back, and ends up dropping his bag on his foot in the process. Yuri’s prepared to ignore her, but Georgi hisses into his ear: “Wave back. ” He’s tempted to ignore him, too, but Georgi continues with, “I’ll tell Yakov you were the one who let the cats in that time we got released early.” 

“I’m pretty sure Yakov knows it was me, idiot,” mutters Yuri, but he waves back anyways and forces a smile on his face. 

When the girls are finally out of sight, Georgi retrieves his bag and asks, “Did you see the girl who waved? She’s the one who’s making me like this.”

“You’re normally like this,” the blond returns. 

“I mean the sick feeling,” Georgi sighs. “You know, butterflies, blushing, fumbling over words, dropping bags on feet?” 

Yuri stares at the older skater blankly. “Are you trying to tell me all the stupid things you’ve done are because of this girl?”

Georgi shakes his head mournfully, lamenting the thick-headedness of the young. “Oh Yuri. All crushes make people act stupid. It’s all because of love, you know? Actually, no, you don’t know. You’ll understand when you’re older.” Patting Yuri on the head, he skillfully dodges the swipes subsequently aimed at him (practice makes perfect after all!), and makes his way into his class. 

Yuri huffs and glares at the floor. “Whatever,” he mutters. Even though Georgi can’t hear him, it still makes him feel better. 

 

Class is absolute torture. Yuri keeps up a steady stream of angry muttering as he continues to bend his body in increasingly difficult ways. He must’ve been louder than he thought, because a hand taps him on the shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” Otabek Altin asks, eyes concerned.

“Wha- it’s none of your business!” Yuri finds himself growling, red blooming across his cheeks. His eyes widen in horror when he realizes what he’s said. He immediately wants to disappear but all Otabek does is shrug. “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Yuri wants to apologize, but then Otabek is slipping back to his previous spot for the next round of exercises and he can’t anymore. The blond spends the next hour alternating between muttering, “You idiot!” and “Why did I say that?” He makes sure to keep his eyes away from Otabek’s half of the room. When they’re allowed a brief water break, Yuri tells himself he’s going to apologize. But Yakov walks over to catch him in conversation and Yuri fights the urge to bang his head against the wall behind him. When Yakov finally stops talking (the younger skater doesn’t remember a single word he says), it’s time to start class again. Yuri contemplates murder.

 

Finally, they’re released for the day. Otabek packs up slowly, so Yuri does, too. He calls the Kazakh skater’s name when he’s just about to leave, rushes up, and takes a deep breath in. His heart is pounding and he feels faint and he thinks it might have to do with how Otabek’s shirt hugs him. Looking at the ground, Yuri forces out, “I’m sorry for earlier.” 

“It’s fine,” Otabek says. Maybe he senses that Yuri doesn’t believe him, because he smiles. “Really, it’s okay.” 

“Okay,” Yuri says, still doubtful. “You’d tell me if it wasn’t, right?” 

Otabek opens his mouth to reply and Yuri quickly says, “Sorry, that was weird. Never mind.” He can feel his face burning and he’s almost positive his ears are red. 

“No, it’s not weird,” Otabek hurries to reply. His tone is sincere when he says, “I mean it. It’s fine.” He’s about to say something more when his phone vibrates. “Sorry, I need to go. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Otabek rushes out of the room and Yuri is left with his goodbye on the tip of his tongue. “You left your water bottle,” he says to the air, sighing. 

 

It occurs to him in that moment that he might be afflicted with what Georgi called a crush that very morning. The thought horrifies him so Yuri promptly resolves to never think of it again.

 

(He actually succeeds for the rest of the day, except for when he catches sight of Otabek’s water bottle in his bag. Yuri still needs to return it, and he feels himself flushing just thinking about it. If just thinking about Otabek is enough to make him blush, Yuri isn’t sure he’ll survive the next day.)

  
  


Yuri catches Otabek early the next day. He shoves the water bottle in Otabek’s face and searches for words to fill the silence. “You, uh, left this…the other day...” 

The Kazakh skater smiles in surprise. “Thank you. I thought I’d lost it.” 

Yuri feels his ears turning pink. “Your welcome,” he says, and smiles back. It would’ve been a nice moment, if Yuri didn’t manage to mess it up by tripping over his bag immediately after. The only good thing about it is that even though Otabek laughs, the older skater offers his hand. The bad thing (other than the fact that Yuri  _ falls on his face in front of Otabek _ ), is that Yuri stares at his hand for a good thirty seconds before Otabek chuckles, “You’re supposed to take it.” While Yuri ends up taking the offered hand, he’s sure his own is sweaty and gross, and nearly lets go. It’s not like he  _ needs _ help picking himself off of the  _ ground _ . But Otabek has a steady grip and a smile still on his face, so Yuri holds on tight and lets himself be helped up. Maybe he won’t spend the next fifty years hiding under his bed. 

 

Yuri’s call with Grandpa that night is short. He doesn’t mention Otabek but he’s all he can think about. Grandpa must be able to tell there’s something on his mind, because he says, “I’ll leave you to whatever you’re doing now. Good night Yurochka, and remember to have fun.” Yuri doesn’t do much after the call. He searches for more videos of Otabek skating, and tells himself it’s just because he needs to research the competition. Yuri knows he’s exhibiting Georgi-esque behavior, but he clicks on the next video anyways.

  
  


Luckily, the rest of the week passes by without any terribly embarrassing moments. Yuri ends up going through all of Otabek’s routines he can find online, but thankfully Otabek has no way of figuring out he did that. Yuri counts it a success. 

By the end of camp, Yuri has to reluctantly admit that he might actually miss it. He might not have made any super good friends, but he thinks he’ll miss Otabek. So Yuri shouts a quick goodbye at the older skater before running out and hopes he doesn’t look as embarrassed as he feels. 

 

(He’s almost one-hundred percent sure it doesn’t work.)

  
  
  


Yakov lets Yuri visit Grandpa in the last weeks of summer. 

“You’ve worked hard, Yuri,” Yakov says abruptly one day, after practice. “Take some time off. It’ll be good for you, and I know you want to see your grandfather.” 

Yuri looks up, a mixture of confusion and happiness threading its way through his expression. “My routine isn’t p-”

“Rest is just as important as practice.”

“I-”

“Go, Yurochka. We still have plenty of time.”

So Yuri grins, bright and bold, and hurries to pack.

  
  


Home in Moscow is just how he remembers. Yuri didn’t realize quite how much he missed having Grandpa around until he was in front of him, seeing him in person after forever.

“Yurochka! You’ve gotten so much taller!” Grandpa exclaims.

“Grandpa! You’re being so embarrassing; people are looking!” Yuri protests.

The older man only smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I missed you, too.”

 

The pair walk to the apartment, Grandpa insisting on helping Yuri carry his luggage. 

Once Yuri’s stuff has been safely deposited in his old bedroom, Grandpa looks at him with warm eyes and asks, “What would you like to do now?”

Yuri opens his mouth to answer, but ends up yawning instead. 

Grandpa chuckles, “I think you might need a nap.” He ushers Yuri towards his room. We’ll do whatever you want tomorrow, or tonight if there’s enough time. But rest for now.”

The protests Yuri has on the tip of his tongue are swallowed up by another yawn, so he reluctantly pads to his room. 

  
It’s okay to sleep for a little bit. Yuri still has  _ weeks _ to spend with Grandpa, and for him, that’s almost forever. 


	3. Chapter 3

Yuri wakes up in a tangle of sheets and blankets, to the sound of his grandfather gently knocking on his door.

“Yurochka?” He hears.

Yuri yawns, and wipes at his bleary eyes. “I’m awake,” he croaks, his throat raw for no reason he can discern.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

The door creaks open and Yuri winces when the light flickers on. He turns toward his door, expecting a warm smile from Grandpa. He gets the smile, but it withers away as Grandpa’s face pales.   

Yuri panics. “Grandpa! Are you okay? Is it your back? Let’s go to a doctor, does it hurt? Everything...Grandpa?”

The older man just stares. Finally, he walks towards Yuri and grasps something from the tangle of sheets. He holds it up for Yuri to see.

 

It’s a yellow flower petal.

  
  
  


Yuri doesn’t know what he expected in life. When he thinks of the future, he’s always imagined being wealthy enough to provide for Grandpa. Yuri thinks of gold medals and that spot on the very center of the podium. And he always thought somehow, that he would get that. That he would skate until he reached the top. He’d make Grandpa proud and repay him for all he’d sacrificed for him. It doesn’t matter now though. 

 

Yuri watches his future come crashing down as the doctor shakes his head and says, “I’m sorry.”

Grandpa keeps his face blank and impassive. “Will Yuri be okay?”

The doctor takes on a clipped, professional tone. “He has Hanahaki disease. Those with the disease cough up flower petals if their love is unrequited.”

“And you only get better if you’re loved back or if you get surgery, right?” Yuri hears himself ask.

“Yes, but you don’t have to decide to get the surgery or not quite yet.” the man says. “You know, you’re one of the youngest cases of Hanahaki I’ve ever seen. The young ones always fall fast and hard. Love at first sight.”

Yuri doesn’t know how to respond, so he says nothing.

Grandpa and the doctor continue talking about medication options, ways to ease the inevitable pain, and Yuri lets the words wash over him. He doesn’t feel much like trying to keep up, until he hears Grandpa mention skating.

“...should be able to continue skating for longer. We won’t know how quickly his disease develops until later, but he’s got two to three months on the ice at worst…”

Yuri continues to tune them out.

 

It’s only when they’re about to leave that Yuri remembers that he has a question. 

He flushes and looks down at the ground and does his best to keep his voice normal. “What flower is it?” 

The doctor gives a small, knowing smile. “Goldenrod.”

 

The moment they get inside the apartment, Grandpa wraps Yuri up in a hug and mumbles words into Yuri’s hair. He can’t hear them clearly, but it doesn’t matter. He can guess what they are.

“I love you, too.” Yuri says, voice strangely steady.

When they finally separate, both of their cheeks tear-stained, Grandpa goes to the kitchen to heat up some leftovers and Yuri washes his face. Neither of them feel much like making pirozhki. 

 

It’s only after dinner that Yuri musters up the courage to mumble, “Are you mad at me?”

His grandfather looks up from his notepad to give a startled look. “Why would I be, Yurochka?”

Embarrassingly, Yuri feels his eyes getting wet and he furiously wipes at them with the palm of his hand. “Because I have Hanahaki.”

Grandpa gives a gentle smile, and pats the spot next to him on the couch. Yuri shuffles over and keeps his eyes on the ground, even as he leans into Grandpa’s side 

“I’m not mad at you. I’m sad that you have to deal with something like this at such a young age, but I could never be mad at you for something like this.” He turns to look at Yuri then, seeking his eyes. “Yurochka?”

“Yeah?” 

“Look at me, Yurochka,” he says, gently but firm. 

So Yuri drags his gaze up, and forces himself to look Grandpa in the eyes.

“It’s going to be hard. But we can get through this, so don’t worry, alright?”

Yuri nods. 

Grandpa smiles. “Want to talk more about it later?”

“Yes,” the blond skater says, more shakily than he likes. “Yes, please.”

So the rest of the night is spent coming up with new recipes and all the places they should visit while Yuri’s here, and nobody says another word about the petals falling from Yuri’s lips.

(That doesn’t change the fact that he’s coughing them up though. Yuri hates it.)

  
  


Yuri doesn’t talk about it the next day. Or the next. He spends most of his time ignoring the flowers and the petals and when Grandpa brings it up, he ignores him, too. It’s only when Yakov walks through the front door one evening that Yuri finally agrees to talk.

“What are you doing here?” He asks immediately, eyeing Yakov warily.

Grandpa makes a reproachful noise. “Where have your manners gone, Yurochka?”

“They left when I started coughing up flowers,” Yuri shoots back. He regrets it at once, because Grandpa’s face is crumbling and Yakov looks confused.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri says. He’s sorry for more than just his words, but he’ll never say it outloud. He thinks Grandpa understands though, because he gives a small smile. 

Yakov cuts in then. He goes straight to the point. “Nikolai, you called me here to discuss Yuri’s skating career?”

“Yes,” Grandpa says. “I wanted to ask you some questions in person. It’s a rather serious situation.” 

Yakov looks apprehensive now. No doubt hundreds of scenarios are racing through his head, none of them good. 

Grandpa shifts uncomfortably. “You see-”

“Hanahaki,” Yuri cuts in. “I have Hanahaki.” He keeps his eyes down, so he doesn’t have to look at Yakov. 

 

No one says anything for a long time. Then his coach, voice thick and gruffer than usual, asks for the whole story. So Grandpa explains how they went to the hospital, and tells him about everything the doctor said. Yuri tunes it out. He doesn’t want to think about it.

Eventually, the adults come to an agreement. Yuri should take the medicine for his throat. Yakov will give him more breaks so he can take the meds. He should have weekly check-ups at first, to see how the disease is progressing, and then have the check-ups be adjusted accordingly. He should skate as long as possible, and then-

“It’s your choice to get surgery or not,” Grandpa says. Yakov nods and adds, “But I think you should get it. You have a great future in front of you.” 

 

Yuri lets it soak in. He wants to skate. This is good. He won’t have to worry about surgery right now. But then Yakov says, “I think - and your grandfather agrees - that you should come back with me. Skaters don’t usually skate for very long, and your time has probably been shortened. We need to make use of all the time we can.”

 

He refuses to go. Yuri argues and argues and  _ argues _ but Yakov just shakes his head. 

“It’s for the best,” he says. 

Yuri thinks Yakov must be heartless, and Grandpa too, for making him go. He goes to bed without another word. His eyes burn with angry tears and he buries his face in his pillow.  _ It’s not fair _ , he thinks. But then again, the world is never fair. 

  
  


He wakes up in the middle of the night, throat on fire. Petals cover his pillow. Yuri gets up and heads to the kitchen for something to soothe his throat. He waits just outside, deciding not to go in just yet when he hears the murmur of conversation. 

“I don’t want him to go,” Grandpa says, raw and pained. “He’s so young Yakov. So young. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“I know,” Yakov says, his voice cracking. “But you have to do what’s best for him. And in this case, it’s letting him go.”

Yuri doesn’t catch what Grandpa says in return. He forgets his throat. He pads silently back to his room. Yuri climbs back into bed and bites his knuckles so nobody will hear him cry. He’ll cry it out tonight, he decides. That way Grandpa won’t have to see it. 

 

The next day, he packs his things back up and goes with Yakov. Grandpa smiles as he waves goodbye but Yuri doesn’t miss how his eyes glisten. But Yuri is determined not to cry, so he smiles back and wipes furiously at his eyes when Grandpa isn’t looking. 

 

He can’t help but hate Otabek a little bit when Grandpa loses his composure and sobs. 


	4. Chapter 4

Later, Yuri thinks maybe he’ll look back on this period of his life and be grateful for whatever it’s taught him. Right now though, he’s just angry and sick and tired of coughing up golden petals. 

Yakov helps, of course. He gives Yuri more breaks and less difficult exercises in the morning. He keeps the press in the dark, and makes sure he has some extra pills on hand in case Yuri’s throat bothers him. Yakov takes Yuri to his check-ups and stocks up on tea and shakes off Yuri’s thanks with a gruff, “Well I’m your coach. I’m supposed to do this. Now go practice that free-skate, your jumps are getting sloppy.” Yuri refuses to be grateful for Hanahaki, but he’s grateful for Yakov. 

 

The thing is, Yakov’s might be helping but it isn’t enough. 

 

 

Yuri’s had Hanahaki for five months when he’s given a choice, death or surgery.

 

“Yurochka,” Yakov begins, and Yuri’s heart is beating quickly because Yakov’s just called him Yurochka and that can mean nothing good. 

“Yurochka,” he says again. “The doctor…after your last check-up he told me that your disease is progressing incredibly fast. It always does in the young patients, but yours is unusually fast even for that. Most haven’t even begun coughing up more than twenty petals for this stage and you’re coughing up full flowers.”

Yuri nods and swallows hard.

“He thinks that…that since it’s developing so quickly if we wait longer to have surgery, it’ll be too late. You have to make a decision now.”

Yuri doesn’t want to make a decision, doesn’t want to do  _ anything _ , but the world is closing in on him and it is suddenly so hard to breathe. 

“Hey,” Yakov says, unusually gentle. “I told your grandfather about it. Do you want me to call him so you can talk it out with him?”

“Yes,” Yuri says, forcing the words out.

Yakov hands the phone to him and Yuri feels incredibly better when he hears Grandpa.

 

“Hello Yurochka.” His voice is calm.

“Hi Grandpa.”

“How’s your skating coming along? I heard you won another gold!”

“Yes,” Yuri hesitates. “But…Yakov told you about…?”

A sigh, then, “Yes, he did. It’s your choice Yura.”

“I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to forget either.” Yuri feels a little like a coward.

Grandpa tells him it’s okay, that forgetting won’t be so bad, and that he’ll be able to skate easily again.

So Yuri says he’ll get the surgery.

 

 

Yakov tells him it’s two weeks before the surgery is scheduled. He tells the other skaters that Yuri will be visiting his grandfather. He offers an explanation on what they’ll do, but Yuri doesn’t want to hear it. Instead, he shamelessly finds as many videos of Otabek skating as he can. If he’s going to forget, then what’s the point in refusing himself this indulgence? 

Yuri soaks in as many  pieces of information about Otabek as he can, and wishes that he could keep every bit of it. He wishes he wouldn’t have to forget that Otabek’s birthday is on October 31st, that he likes teddy bears, that one time in an interview he admitted to wanting to be a DJ. There is so much Yuri can’t forget, doesn’t want to forget, but he closes his eyes and lets them put him under anyways.

 

He wakes up with a foggy head, a burning chest, before they put him back under.

 

When Yuri is finally coherent enough to actually register his surroundings, the first thing he notices is that his chest is wrapped in gauze. The next is that Yakov is sitting next to him, on the phone. He hangs up when he sees that Yuri’s awake, and smiles wide. It’s a rare look on him.

“Yuri!” Yakov says, “it’s nice to see you awake.”

Yuri tries to smile back, but it’s hard. He’s still so tired.

“Here,” Yakov says, gently. “I’ll go get a nurse. We’ll get you back home soon.”

 

Yuri is asleep before Yakov comes back.   

 

 

 

He wakes up again, later. He’s not sure what time it is, or even what day, but he is aware of a burning in his chest. It’s wrapped in gauze, and it hurts. He moves to unwrap it, to see what’s under, when a chorus of voices stop him.

“Yuri!” Mila, Victor, and Georgi say in unison. It’s quite possibly the most terrifying thing Yuri;s ever heard. 

“You guys almost gave me a heart attack,” he says, once his breathing has steadied. 

“Not our fault you didn’t bother looking around,” Victor says shakily, getting up from the chair next to the bed so Georgi can sit. 

Georgi’s crying as he says, “Yakov goes into practice and says you had to have surgery! He wouldn’t tell us anymore than that. You’re okay, aren’t you?”

Mila pats him on the back, looking worried as well. Now that Yuri’s gotten a chance to properly examine his rink mates, he can’t help but notice that there’s a shadow in Victor’s eyes, one he doesn’t remember being there before. 

“I-I’m fine,” Yuri says.

“Are you sure?” Mila asks. “What was wrong?”

“Nothing,” Yuri says. “Doesn’t matter now.”

The three older skaters exchange another concerned look, and Yuri rolls his eyes.

“Really,” he says, exasperated, “I’m fine. Promise.”

Victor still has that shadow in his eyes, Georgi still sniffles, and Mila can’t hide her worry, but they slip into conversation without pressing for more information. 

 

When they finally leave, they seem more at ease. 

Yuri sighs. His rink mates worry too much. Still, he can’t deny that it feels nice to be worried over. 

 

 

Yuri’s allowed home after two weeks. He says home at least, but it’s not really home. It’s where he lives with Yakov. 

 

Yakov forces him to stay in bed for another week. 

He says it’s non-negotiable, and nothing Yuri says can sway him, so eventually Yuri accepts his fate. He calls Grandpa a lot, and ends up reading a lot of recipe books, searching for things to make with Grandpa. But for most of the time, Yuri doesn’t have much to do except for think.

 

It’s strange. Yuri remembers many things. He remembers exactly how he met Victor, the exact shade of Mila’s hair, and what Georgi did to make him lose all respect for him. He remembers learning how to skate, and how lonely it was his first night away from home.   

He remembers all these things, but it still feels like something’s missing. 

Yuri knows that the whole point of the surgery was to forget, but he wishes he could remember. Even just the name of the person would be enough. It’s not fair that he exchanged his memories for a scar on his chest. 

“And your life,” he says aloud. 

If he’s going to make losing those memories worth it, then he’ll have to use the rest of his life wisely. Yuri’s going to win the Grand Prix if it kills him, because now he has to. There’s no way he can’t.

 

He falls asleep that night and dreams of gold medals. He hates himself a little bit when he wakes up and realizes that in his dream, he didn’t have a scar on his chest. He heads to the rink as soon as he can and skates until his knees tremble and it takes all his energy to stay on his feet. It’s easier not to think about it.

 

And for the next five years, that’s what Yuri does. He skates and skates and skates and wins medal after medal. And he doesn’t think about it. 

 

(He asked once, when he was thirteen, about the person who caused his Hanahaki. Yakov told him he didn’t know, that Yuri never told anyone who it was. The worst part is that Yuri can tell he’s not lying. The next day, Yuri isn’t allowed in the rink. Yakov tells him he worked himself too hard last time, and that he needs to take a break. Yuri thinks he didn’t work himself hard enough.)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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